Courage of the Heart
by Aeryn Phoenix
Summary: Casavir POV, oneshot, fluffiness. Reviews are appreciated.


Courage of the Heart

To say that it was love at first sight would be a grave misstatement. In truth, the first time I laid eyes on Avea, it was not immediately apparent if she were a man or a woman, though if I were asked, I would have said that I assumed her to be male. It was not the platemail or heavy helm that gave me that impression – there are many women who don such items in combat. It was how she fought, rather, with utter abandon and unmatched skill, something not generally seen in a cleric that gave me the impression of masculinity. I can admit that I admired her even before I met her.

When I finally revealed myself to her, I was certain she and her followers were capable of aiding me in my goal, despite their rag-tag appearance. After all, it is not often that a Paladin of Tyr turns to a battle-hungry dwarf, a tiefling cutpurse, a gnome bard of questionable sanity, a temperamental sorceress of even less sanity, and an arrogant druidess, all led by a person I knew absolutely nothing about save that they fought the same orcs I longed to destroy. Truly, I would be lying if I said that I never second-guessed my decision to join them, but now I do not regret staying.

"Beautiful" was far from the first word that my mind conjured up when she finally removed her helm. "Startling" is probably the best word for her appearance. He dark silver hair was short and stuck out from her head in wild spikes. The blue of her eyes was so pale, it could very nearly be called white, made all the more intense by the dark tan of her skin. I immediately recognized her as an aasimar, one touched by the higher planes, and from her look, she bore quite a bit of the divine blood. In truth, her heritage put my mind at ease, as I knew her kind were prone to acts of just benevolence.

As we traveled together, it was revealed that she was a Sunite, something I had not expected. Such priestesses were known as whores among those of my order, seen as evil temptresses who lead astray men and women alike, yet for all that I tried, I could sense no such intentions from Avea. She was certainly friendlier that I was accustomed to, flirtatious in speech and manner, seeming to have little concept of personal space. While at first I was left rather embarrassed and confused by her simple advances, I soon came to enjoy, and even long for, the brief touch of her hand on my shoulder, or the flash of her white teeth behind her dark lips.

That longing soon became mingled with jealousy when the ranger joined our group. The pervasive evil that rolled off him made my hand itch to end his life, and only Avea's interference stayed my mace. She treated him with the same respect she treated all her companions, ignoring his lewd and inappropriate comments, though it did calm my fears a bit to notice that she never touched him, not even accidentally. When I finally confessed my worry to her, it was with happy heart that I listened to her agree with my assessment of the man. He was dangerous, true, but a necessary evil for the time being. As the conversation ended, she placed a hand on my cheek and smiled up at me as she said, "I didn't realize you cared so much. Thank you." My heart thundered in my chest as I watched her walk away, feeling the first stirrings of an emotion I thought long dead: love.

When she was falsely accused of a crime none of us could imagine, I watched her weep over the bodies of those slain at Ember. I was awed at her trial as she passionately defended herself against Luskan, both on the stand and after during her trial by combat. I came to her at the temple and pleaded with her to allow me to be her champion, confessed that I could not bear to lose her, but she had kindly refused my offer. "I cannot tell you how much it warms me to hear your words," she had said, "but this is something I must see through myself." I very nearly took her in my arms then, seeing so much strength and determination in the body of a young woman, but I was held back by my own fear.

I was proud when Lord Nasher named her Captain and awarded her Crossroad Keep – she deserved the title and more after everything she had done for Neverwinter. She had cornered me shortly after our arrival at the Keep, demanding to know why I watched her so often. Her coy smile convinced me that she already knew the answer, but perhaps she merely needed to hear the words from me. I did my best to tell her how I felt, that she inspired me, for she alone caused me to go places I would never have gone for another. The answer did not satisfy her as she quickly pressed me with, "Are you saying you have feelings for me?" My fear reared its traitorous head once more as I stammered something foolish about wishing to protect her. I was relieved when she smiled, and terrified when she raised up on her toes and gently kissed my cheek, leaving me stunned and wondering, "Why could you not say, 'I love you'?"

Our first battle with a Shadow Reaver was almost fatal for the cleric. My heart nearly burst with agony as I lifted her broken, limp body from the stones beneath the shattered Statue of Purification. I poured my healing power into her, wrestling with my despair until I saw her eyes flutter slowly open, dazed by pain, but alive. Everything in me longed to kiss her, to crush her to me and never let her go, but my fear told me she would push me away, that there was no reason for a woman like her to desire a deserter and betrayer of oaths. So, I helped her up to her feet and backed away, avoiding her eyes as if they would burn the very fabric of my being.

When the Sword of Gith had been reforged, and we succeeded at the battle with the Shadow Reaver that followed, I could not take my eyes from her. She was radiant, glowing with a power and strength that in the hands of any other person might make me fear, but like water to well I was drawn in. If I had not loved her before, I did then, as she slipped effortlessly into the role she was destined to play. Fear still pulled me, but I vowed then that I would not go to my grave without telling her my thoughts.

Now we are but a few hours from the battle that might very well bring my death, and the death of us all. I do not feel worry for the coming siege, only a vague hope that we will survive because I now have something to live for where once there was nothing. I lean over the cold stone of the ramparts, drawing in deep the crisp night air before I turn to the woman beside me. She is staring at the full moon, its light playing through her hair and illuminating her eyes, and I am made breathless by the sight. Yes, she is beautiful, in every way. I would do anything for her, die for her if need be, but I waver with uncertainty, not knowing if I will have the courage to say what I brought her up to the walls to hear.

She turns to me, tilting her head as she smiles up at me, and suddenly I feel that I have the courage after all.


End file.
